


A Pearl

by Anonymous



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Bad Ending, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Johnny Silverhand Being An Asshole, Johnny Silverhand Has a Body, Manipulative Relationship, Not A Fix-It, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Unhealthy Relationships, i have to stress that johnny is Not a good guy, inspired by several poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He thinks he could love her. That’s the thing, isn’t it?If he really tried, he could love her. He could admit everything to her, admit that the love he has for her burns him up inside.If she would come back, he would tell her.(or) A follow up to “Pink in the Night.”
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Kudos: 24
Collections: Anonymous





	A Pearl

**Author's Note:**

> “Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I came to  
> your party  
> and seduced you  
> and left you bruised and ruined, you  
> poor sad thing.”

_(“Don’t think, V.” he told her. He doesn’t think when he’s with her. She should do the same._

_All he thinks about is the fact that she’s his. His alone.)_

The sun rises, and she’s not there. 

She’s supposed to be here, in his arms, drooling on the pillow they share. 

He leaves. Not the other way around. 

He gets up when the sun rises, picks his clothes up from the carpet, puts them on and walks out the door. 

What’s there to say? 

_(A lot. He wants to say a lot of things.)_

It doesn’t feel right. Her–Her just _leaving_ him in the dark.

There’s no note either. No reminder that she even existed. It’s unlike her. She used to crave recognition; she wanted people to know she survived Night City and came out on top.

Johnny knows that about her. He knows everything about her, every tiny detail. 

Even if she hadn’t told him, he would know. He knew her like the back of his hand. He hardly had to think about her to know exactly who she was.

Johnny can’t say that about himself anymore.

Somewhere in the 50 years he spent in the dark, he lost himself. 

He was trying to find it again, whatever passion or fire he once had.

He found it in V. Isn’t that ironic? 

Maybe Johnny forced it into her, or maybe it wasn’t him but the chip that held all the things that made him. 

_(“You make me feel good, V. Isn’t that enough?” he told her one night._

_She looked at him like he wanted her to. Desire and passion in those eyes. Her body was under his, her hands tracing over him._

_Wasn’t it enough to feel like that? To feel passion? Never mind love, it only ends in ache. Love burns up like a wildfire and gets extinguished all at once. Johnny doesn’t want that.)_

V stared so much. 

Was he supposed to feel good when she did?

He felt trapped, like _she_ knew him too. She did, in some ways. Not how it mattered. Johnny always made sure she never knew all his fears. His doubts.

_(“I guess it went well. How you did it.” she told him._

_Johnny wiped the blood off his knife, placed it down next to her. He prayed to God she wouldn’t dig it into him._

_“How else was I supposed to do it? Your way?” he whispered. V didn’t answer. She crawled into his lap and kissed him until he could taste blood in his mouth. It felt right._

_He’s still thinking about how it didn’t sound like a whisper at all. It sounded like fear._

_The knife’s edge shined so brightly. It nearly blinded him.)_

Johnny stands up from the edge of the bed. He trips over a knife. It used to be under V’s pillow. When he asked her why she kept it there, she told him it was for protection. 

He never asked what made her so scared that she started sleeping with a knife. He wouldn’t have liked the lie she would’ve told him. 

Smoke rises from the ashtray he left on their bedside table. He picks it up, stares at the items. Two cigarettes and Johnny doesn’t know who they belong to.

They used to be his and V’s. 

_(Johnny tugged at her arm, pushed her outside their apartment. V complained the entire time._

_“I don’t smoke, Johnny. Not anymore.” she told him._

_She told him so many things and he ignored every single one of them._

_“Come on, V! For me?” he asked. She glared at him, but took the cigarette from his pack, anyway. He lit it for her. She gave it a drag, then stomped it out with her heel._

_All he needed was that one drag. He had her hooked.)_

They’re both _his_ cigarettes, he realizes. 

V doesn’t smoke. Not for him, not for anyone. 

He sets the ashtray back down, nuzzles it close to the figurine that’s still here. Must’ve not been so important, if she didn’t take it with her wherever she went.

She’ll be back for it. Johnny dug his nails into her so painfully. She’ll come back to him. Johnny’s got a hold on her like no other. 

It’s not like she hasn’t left before. Every time, she’s come crawling back to him. 

_(The door slid open. She came back. After five hours, she came back._

_He wondered what her next record would be. A day? 2 hours?_

_“Where did you go?” he asked her. She sat on the edge of their bed in silence._

_He walked over to her, sat right next to her. He gave her no room. Suffocated her with his presence._

_“I don’t wanna tell you.” she whispered._

_Johnny chuckled, took her hand and interlaced their fingers. He gripped her hand so tightly, tried to force it into his._

_“Tell me anyway.”)_

Johnny turns on the radio, switches it over to Morro Rock. He never enjoyed listening to Vexelstrom. That was V’s taste. 

A few days ago, he would’ve let it play. He would’ve entertained V, because that’s what _she_ wanted. 

V wanted his attention, and he gave it to her. He kissed her bloody, played with her hair, scooped her into his arms. He pushed himself into her, let his hands roam all over her body.

He listened to her moans and praised her, just like she wanted him to. 

When she gets back, he’ll do it all over again. He’ll leave her when the sun rises, get drunk with Kerry, go pick up a gig from Rogue, and come back at night. It’s a cycle. 

It’s easy too. It’s so easy to fuel V’s desire. 

He’s not sure why she insists on making a scene of herself. He doesn’t know why she comes back in the middle of the night when the entire city can see. 

Johnny walks over to the desk, pushes loose papers away. He searches for her handwriting, for a note where her lipstick greets him. He finds nothing. 

He looks to his right, towards the hook that usually holds his jacket. The jacket she wears. It’s not there either. 

She was never really here. He never knew her at all. 

_(V fell into his arms. The bedsheets crumpled as they moved around. He kept her close to his body, wrapped his arms tight around her. He made a home inside her body._

_“You know what I mean, right? When I tell you that.” he whispered afterward._

_‘Wait,’ he wanted to scream. ‘Don’t answer me, please,’ he wanted to scream._

_She looked at him. Her eyes said nothing. Neither did she.)_

He knew her, didn’t he? 

He knew what made her tick, what she liked, what she hated. He knew she loved him. 

He loved her too; he thinks. 

If he thinks hard enough, he can pinpoint a time and place when he fell in love. 

Sometime between the Pistis Sophia and coming back to life. Somewhere between Pacifica and her apartment.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. V loved him and would do anything for him. She knew when he was holding back. She must’ve known that he loved her too. 

Johnny walks around the living room. From the bed, he can hear the purrs from Nibbles. She didn’t take the cat either. V left Nibbles with him. 

His heart beats faster. 

_(“Do you think Nibbles would like it somewhere else?” she asked him one day when the gunshots coming from outside were loud and stronger than usual._

_He scoffed and shook his head._

_“We have everything here. Why would we leave?” he said._

_He thought she wanted to say something else. Something like, ‘This place reminds me of when we were the same.’_

_She said nothing, though. She just nodded and put Nibbles in the laundry basket.)_

Johnny misses the feeling of having her with him constantly, of being inside her head. He misses fighting alongside her in that war they went through. 

When he was inside of her brain, he could love her from afar and pretend it was her love for him. He could shift the blame and pretend everything was alright.

He could love the fight, love the war. 

He didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to feel his heart racing in his chest as he realizes. She’s not coming back. 

She left Nibbles. She took his jacket, her kisses. And she’s not coming back.

_(“I’m tired, Johnny.” she whispered in the dark, turned away from him and his begging._

_He dug his nails into her side, ignored her cry of pain, and rolled her over._

_“Come on, baby. Don’t you want this?” he said. Her eyes shined so brightly. She looked beautiful in the moonlight._

_He swooped in, planted his lips on hers and stole her answer from her mouth. Whatever she needed to say could wait.)_

She was tired. She wanted something from him, and he didn’t give it to her. 

He gave her what he knew, though. 

Johnny gave her fire. 

_(V didn’t like the burn.)_

A hole grows in his chest, next to his heart. It suffocates him. It feels like–It feels like V and all the wrong things. 

It’s not fair. She doesn’t get to do this to him. _He_ suffocated her; he whispered sweet nothings into her ear to shut her up, and he convinced her to stay. 

He can do it again, he knows he can. It’s not over until _he_ says so. _Johnny_ gets to decide, _not_ V. He’ll stay up every night just to wait for her. She’ll come back one of these nights. 

He can touch her better, please her better. 

That’s not what she wants, though. At least, Johnny thinks so. 

It frustrates him. 

He doesn’t know what she wanted. 

_(Didn’t he know her? Every part of her?)_

Johnny rises from the desk chair, pushes it under the table. 

He walks over to the armory. She would never leave the–

He opens the door and his eyes lock onto the Malorian Arms sitting on the table. 

_(He walked into the armory and found her sitting on the high chair, cleaning his gun._

_“Did you go to the camp yesterday?” he said. He leaned on the door with his foot on the frame._

_She stopped, set the gun down. She didn’t turn around to look at him. Anger coursed through his veins._

_“I don’t wanna tell you, Johnny–” she whispered._

_“Tell me anyway,” he demanded. His foot fell to the floor. The bang of his heel hitting the ground, just like a gunshot._

_He’s still thinking about the way she flinched when he spoke.)_

Did she want him to say it? 

He doesn’t know anymore.

Maybe he never did.

Did she want him to tell her he loved her?

He could’ve. He thinks he could’ve. Johnny was never good at it, but he could’ve learned. 

He thinks he could’ve loved her as much as she loved him.

Johnny walks over to the table and picks the gun up. She always preferred knives. 

Her love was much like one. It was like a knife. She gazed at him like she was trying to tell him that. 

She needed to cut into him. She needed to find out why he couldn’t say it, but he never let her. He thought she could settle for moonlight and his body on top of hers. 

He did. It’s all he ever needed, even 50 years ago. 

Johnny should’ve let her dig into him. He should’ve drowned under her love. 

She would’ve pulled him up and away from that ocean.

He knows that. 

* * *

Time passes. Johnny doesn’t leave the apartment. He waits for her to come back to him, like she always does. 

She’ll come back to him. She will.

Johnny knows that she needs him. 

The sun is about to set. It bathes the apartment in an array of colors. Purple and red light bounces off the furniture and hits his face. 

_(He wants to tell her. He wants to tell her, finally._

_He wants to shout it from the rooftops so she’ll know he means it._

_“Do you love me?” she asked him._

_If he shouts it from the rooftops, someone will hear._

_He told her to go to sleep. They would talk about it later._

_Later meant never.)_

The door slides open. 

V walks in with tears streaking down her face. She’s shaking so feverishly. She might collapse. The duffel bag in her hand drops to the floor. 

Johnny walks over and stands in front of her. He opens his arms, and she stumbles into them. 

_This is how they love._

* * *

They’re sitting on the edge of their bed. 

He shifts around and collapses onto the sheets. He drags her down with him. She fits so perfectly beside him. 

“Where did you go?” he asks her. His hand strokes her hair. He can feel her shivering from his touch. The hole inside his chest closes.

Her voice is shaky when she cries, “I don’t wanna tell you. How many times do I have to say that?” Her body trembles harder when he yanks her up and further into him.

Johnny’s trying to fuse her body into his, so that she’ll never leave again. This was the last time.

He forces her gaze towards him, grips her chin so that she may never look at someone else again. He grips her like he owns her. 

“Tell me anyway.” 

She tells him, like she always does.

“I went to the bus stop.” she whispers. He knows the ending to this story, but he tells her to go on, anyway. 

“I wanted to get on the bus, but I didn’t. I went walking around the city.” 

Johnny hums. His metal hand is icy, but she still leans into his touch. He caresses her cheek and wipes away her tears. 

“We belong together, V. That’s what you wanted, right?” he asks her. 

He knows her answer. 

“I–” she hesitates. Her eyes snap close. 

Johnny wants her gaze on him. He moves his hand from her cheek to her chin and grips it tightly. 

She whimpers at the ache, but doesn’t tell him to stop. She lets him.

_(He pushed into her, moved her body around like she was a rag doll._

_Johnny kissed her until he bruised her lips, until they went numb. He touched her and contaminated her body with his hands. Her skin looked blue under the moonlight._

_The sun rose, and he saw the remnants of his anger on her skin. He heard her cries for help as he yelled at her to tell him where she had gone to._

_He’s still thinking about the bruise he left on her cheek.)_

“I love you, V.” he tells her. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. 

V shudders, “I know. I know, Johnny. I love you too.” she answers. It’s not the first time she’s said it out loud. 

The sun finally sets. Their apartment goes cold and dark.

Johnny kisses her head, lingers for a moment. 

When the sun rises, he won’t leave. She won’t either. 

They’re together. They’re the same. He knows her again, knows her like he knows himself. All he has to do is–

V opens her eyes and gazes at him.

_There’s love in those eyes. It knocks him down like a wave._

V’s hand grips his tightly. 

_She pulls him back up and into her arms. The tide recedes._

He’s not shouting it from the rooftops, but he whispers it.

“I love you, V.” 

She looks away. “I suppose you love me–in your way.” she tells him. 

Johnny laughs softly. “How else am I supposed to love you? In your way?” he tells her. His voice cuts through the sound of silent gunshots.

She looks up at him, shakes her head with a smile. Her hand squeezes his. He squeezes back. They love each other like two teenagers learning how to. It’s painfully obvious how inexperienced he is. 

“I just want you to love me.” she whispers. 

“Tell me you do.” she begs him. 

Johnny leans down and catches her lips. He bites down on her bottom lip, draws blood. He feels her do the same. 

They pull away. 

“I love you.” he tells her. 

The weight of his words suffocate him. They’re like saltwater, choking him up and leaving a filthy taste in his mouth. 

She takes some of that weight away when she says,

“That’s all I wanted.” 

He leans down and kisses her. She tastes like blood and fire and all the right things. 


End file.
